Weapon

Jezirea's chosen proffession was risky enough. It was better to be safe than to be sorry, if you didn't have to be.

She stopped off at the town's supply store, and bought enough rations for the trip, then filled her leather water pouch at a fountain in the town square.
She checked inside her bag, and did a quick check to make sure she had all the equipment she would need. As usual she carried flint and tinder, and a simple length of rope. At her waist was buckled a small dagger, for those tight situations she found herself in on occasion.

It looked like she was ready to go.
Jezirea set forth from the town of Fernsdale, heading northwest on the path towards Bygoville. For the first two days, the trip was uneventful. She would stop occasionally to rest, and eat her rations beneath the shade of the thick trees, and at night she would light a fire to keep herself warm. The region she was currently in was usually warm enough for a fire to be more than enough at night. It could even be too hot. It was more to keep the wild animals away.

But just as the sun was setting on the third day, someone stepping in to the road; a black silhouette against the sun, casting a long shadow towards her.

Jezirea stopped, immediately on guard. The silhouette approached her, and more figures began to emerge from the shadows of the trees.
This didn't look to good.

"Hello, young lady," the first figure spoke. Jezirea still couldn't make out his face against the glare of the setting sun.
The man's voice was cocky. "We're here to rob you; nothing more. So hand over any valuables you have and we might spare you."

His voice had a no nonsense attitude to it, and Jezirea knew he meant business, but you could never trust a bandit.
Jezirea could tell, by the expressions on the faces of some of the men she could see, that they clearly wanted more from her than valuables.